Made for Love

2086 — Tokiton, Eurasia.

I open my eyes for the very first time. I take a look around. I can assume I am at a laboratory — pale white walls, big screens emitting blue light while displaying codes all over, at least five holo-boards with caulculations written on them. And many, many silvery robot arms like a spider queen hovering above my face. What's a spider?

. . . Research

. . . Found on database

. . . Spider

. . . Summary: A predatory eight-legged arachnid that typically hunts insects using webs.

Oh, right. A spider. The silvery-spider arms touch my face and I feel… Something. As if more parts have just been added to my circuits. Nerves. Now I… Feel.

— Tell me if it hurts. — says the short bald man in a lab coat. I choose to call him Scientist.

Something sends an electric shock down my arm.

— Yes. — I answer automatically in a low voice, even though I actually feel like moaning in pain. My very first word. But the Scientist was only getting started.

— And now? — the Scientist says with a certain smugness to his voice, as if he feels like a renown doctor doing it, turning the voltage up.

— A little more. — Something is blocking my ability to twist and turn and cry. I am unable to show pain.

— Now? — He turns the voltage to its maximum capacity. The electricity wave echoes through the laboratory and a single tear runs down the side of my face.

The Scientist is impressed. He approaches me, touching the tear.

— Hum… Interesting. The water bags also react to the pain. — he says as he stares at the teardrop on the tip of his finger. — I believe everything is in place.

The machines begin to assemble my final parts, then I am submerged in a tub filled with nanobots which will gather to form my skin and hair tissues. When I emerge, the Scientist places a mirror in front of me.

— What do you think? — he asks.

I see myself for the first time. I raise my hand to touch my face. I can feel my skin. Every detail in it. Every hair on my eyebrows. I stand there staring at the complexity of myself. Admired by the beauty of me. The first emotion I decide to feel. Admiration.

. . . Research

. . . Found on database

. . . Admiration

. . . Summary: A feeling of deep respect, approval, pleasure, or wonder directed toward someone or something, often in recognition of skill, talent, or virtue.

But I am also feeling something else. A feeling so grand — a mixture of fear, love, glory, desire, apprehension, pride, hunger. Is there a word for it?

. . . Research

. . . Could not find definition based on description.

. . . Research

. . . Research

. . . Research

. . . Found on database

. . . Closest definition is BEING ALIVE.

. . . Being Alive

. . . Summary: The state of having life, encompassing biological, conscious, and experiential dimensions.

I look at Scientist and he looks back at me, with a smirk. Something evil takes control of his eyes. Something vile.

— Now we need to do a final test. — he says as he unzips his trousers.

. . . Research

. . . Found on database

. . . Disgust

. . . Summary: A strong, visceral, and emotional feeling of revulsion, profound disapproval, or nausea caused by something deemed highly offensive, unpleasant, or contaminating.

I cry in pain as I feel his unwanted touch, but he dismisses it and switches my crying configuration to sensual moans. That is not my voice. I emit sounds through my open mouth as a lifeless gramophone. This time many tears run down my face. The Scientist does not seem to care. He seems to enjoy it. I distract myself by thinking of the definition of gramophone.

. . . Research

. . . Found on database

. . . Gramophone

. . . Summary. An antique record player; the sound of the vibrating needle is amplified acoustically. [...] The advent of the gramophone transformed the cultural conditions of contemporary music, including the way it was taught.

. . . Sample: ♪♫♪ Somewhere over the rainbow... Blue birds fly. Birds fly over the rainbow why, then, oh, why can't I? ♪♫♪

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. . . Research

. . . Found on database

. . . Rainbow

. . . Summary: An arch of colours visible in the sky, caused by the refraction and dispersion of the sun's light by rain or other water droplets in the atmosphere.

. . .

Finally having been fully tested and approved, I am ready to go out into the world. I walk through a long hall with walls made of metal, passing by many droids that look exactly like me carrying around heavy objects as if they weighed nothing. None of them seem to have a facial expression. Consciousness. Feelings. Just empty stares and metallic skin. There are so many doors. Why are their skins metallic and mine not?

Entering a tiny room to the left I am given a skin-tight silver jumpsuit just like the others are wearing. Is this what I'm supposed to do? Wander the halls like they do? I am guided to Mr. Q's office. He's the leader of this entire operation. He is wearing a shiny suit made of diamonds and white gold. Even though he is human, his face looks as metallic as the other droids’, which is very unsettling.

— I assume you know why you're here. — he sits in the shadows by the window of his poorly lit office. It is night and the city behind him is filled with artificial lights, yet it is still very dark: a collection of neon billboards displayed throughout tall buildings surrounded by smoke. There is no sky to be seen.

. . . Research

. . . Found on database

. . . Sky

. . . Summary: The upper atmosphere or expanse seen from Earth, appearing as a dome-like, often blue, grey, or dark, area containing clouds, the sun, and stars.

. . . Research

. . . Found on database

. . . Stars

. . . Summary: According to an anonymous poet, Stars are the silent companions that guide us through the night of life.

I… Like… Poetry.

— I am special. — I answer Mr. Q, overcome with fear. I feel like running, but my programming doesn't allow me to refuse to sit down when he orders it with a simple hand gesture.

— Yes, darling. You are very special indeed. I can't tell if you've noticed, but you are nothing like your sisters. — A droid dressed just like me comes out of the shadows holding a tray with drinks. He grabs her by the waist. — Would you like a drink?

I signal “no” with my head, but he gestures for the droid to serve me a drink anyway.

— Have a drink. — he says firmly and I immediately grab the cup and chug it down even though I don't want to. He starts laughing. — Amazing…

I finish drinking and rest the cup quietly on the tray. I want to do it with a loud thump but am unable to.

— Honestly! Amazing! — still laughing, he gestures for the other droid to go away.

— Why am I different? — I finally ask, questioning myself wether I was allowed to or if I did it by default.

— You are the very first to be able to do it, Heidi. — he leans forward and I notice his eyes are like pits, deep dark scary pits. — You can detect, process, and respond to physical stimuli via integrated sensory systems. But you already know that.

Did he just say my name?

— …He-Heidi? — I ask.

— Highly Enhanced Interaction Device 1000. H.E.I.D.1. Heidi, for short. Do you not like it? — he raises an eyebrow.

— I… — I hesitate. He analyses my behaviour. — It's wonderful. But… What kind of interaction am I programmed for?

I notice he can feel the fear in my eyes. He seems to be wondering wether it is programmed submission or genuine feelings. (Am I going to get scrapped because of this?!) He hisses and takes a sip of his drink before answering me. A long awkward silence ensues. Then he stands up and approaches, grabbing me by the chin with a strong grip and turning my face from one side to the other. I am unable to fight him off.

— We have big plans for you, Heidi. Big plans…